Nobody's Fault but Mine
by drfondue
Summary: Season 2. Sam and Dean are on a simple salt and burn but it turns out for the worst as Sam suffers from the knowledge of his dad's final words. Can Dean get Sam to realise the good in him before it's too late? Limp!Sam, Older brother!Dean and later on there'll be some High!Sam on meds.
1. Chapter 1

Sam sat impatiently on the damp grass with his back leaning against the rough bark of a tree. He wore a permanent scowl on his face as he watched Dean digging up the old man's grave. Sam hated the fact that his older brother wouldn't let him help out because of his stupid broken wrist. It made him feel completely useless. He aimlessly picked at the grass around him as he watched Dean shovel the last of the dirt. "Are y'done yet?" Sam called out for the hundredth time.

"Shaddup, it's tough doing it by myself." Dean snapped back as he wiped the sweat off his brow.

Sam glared at him and retorted "Well you wouldn't have to do it by yourself if you let me help you out in the first place."

"It's not my fault you broke you're damn wrist Sam. I told you already that it's better you stay up there and keep an eye out for the spirit."

"It wasn't my fault either! And you and me both know it's pointless me sitting here. I just wanna help you, Dean."

"You did help by doing all the research." Dean replied as he stamped and dug his heel in to the rotting wood of the coffin to expose the corpse. He then pulled himself up and out of the grave before unzipping the duffel bag.

"I s'pose that's all I'm good at." Sam mumbled as he picked at the thread on his ripped jeans. Was research really all he was good at? Sam could think of a million things wrong with him but it was painfully hard to think of just a couple of good things…especially when he was still haunted by the conversation he'd had with Dean last week.

"_Before Dad died he, he told me something…something about you."_

"_What? Dean, what did he tell you?"_

"_He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, to take care of you."_

"_He told you that a million times."_

"_No, this time was different. He said that I had to save you."_

"_Save me from what?"_

"_He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd…"_

"_You'd what , Dean?"_

"_That I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy."_

Whenever he thought about it, he got a sinking feel in the pit of his stomach. He knew he was a freak but he'd never thought of the possibility that he'd be killed by his own brother. Sam supposed that dying like that was better than living and becoming a cold-blooded killer like his supposed destiny.

"What?" Dean asked as he took out the kerosene, a bag of salt and a couple matches.

"Nothin'."

Dean poured the kerosene on to the body but before he could do the same with the salt, the temperature dropped rapidly. "Shit…" he muttered under his breath. Dean yelped as he was thrown up in to the air by the spirit. He groaned in pain as he landed on his back. "Son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

Sam looked up at the sound of Dean yelling. His lips parted slightly as he spotted the little girl's spirit. He scrambled up off the ground and picked up his salt gun with his left hand before firing a round straight through the girl's forehead. She dissolved in to smoke and disappeared for just a moment, giving Sam enough time to run over to Dean to check if he was alright.

"Hey, you okay? Where are the matches?" he asked urgently.

Dean picked himself up off the ground and winced. He was going to be sore in the morning. "I'm fine. I'll do it, just watch my back." he answered, bluntly.

Sam nodded with a look of determination crossing his features. Just then, he felt a gust of wind to his right and knew the spirit had chosen just that moment to appear. He spun on his heel and fired another salt round at her, causing her to shriek with rage. "Dean, hurry!" Sam yelled. He was going to run out of ammo at this rate.

Dean sprinkled the salt over the corpse and frantically looked around for the matches. He must have dropped them somewhere when the spirit attacked him but he couldn't see them anywhere.

Sam gasped as his chest was hit with a strong force causing him to be thrown back several metres. He was sure he'd broken a couple of ribs. Sam was about to stand up and face the spirit again when she appeared right in front of him. He sighed with relief as he spotted the salt gun by his side. Sam grabbed it and fired his final round through her stomach but she was more powerful than he'd originally thought because she reappeared just moments later. "Dean!" Sam yelled with a hint of panic in his voice. Why was his brother taking so long? The spirit gripped his leg tightly and mustered all her strength as she crushed it underneath her small hand. Sam howled with pain as he felt the bone in his leg snap under the force. The agony was excruciating, making his eyes sting with unshed tears. He focussed on taking deep, even breaths so he wouldn't pass out from the pain. All Sam hoped was that his brother would find the matches quickly.

Suddenly a thought crossed Sam's mind. What if…what if his brother was watching him from a distance? Maybe he'd listened to what his Dad had said. Maybe this was the easy way of getting rid of Sam so he wouldn't become a threat to anyone. No. He couldn't think like that. Dean would never do that. That wasn't like Dean but…but Dean had always listened to Dad's orders hadn't he? Sam wouldn't blame him if that's what he'd chosen to do.

Dean sighed with relief as he spotted the matches by the headstone. He picked them up and froze as he heard Sam's heart wrenching scream. He glanced over at Sam who now lay sprawled on the floor with the girl looming over him menacingly. Dean's hand started to tremble as he turned back to face the grave. _Come on, __**come on**__, __**COME ON**__, _he thought to himself as he tried to get the match to light. He stared at the match box helplessly as he noticed his efforts were futile. The damn matchbox was damp from the friggin' grass. He tried again and again and eventually managed to light one a few minutes later. Dean was sick with worry for Sam. He hadn't heard him make a noise in a long time and he hoped to God that Sam was okay. Dean chucked the match on to the corpse and turned around to watch as the spirit burst in to flames.

"Sam?" he yelled as he ran over to him. "Sammy?!". Dean inhaled sharply as he saw Sam's leg splayed out at an unnatural angle. "Sammy? You with me?" he said softly, as he kneeled down next to his baby brother.

Sam moaned and turned his head to face his brother. "You didn't…didn't…ah, God!" he yelled as another wave of pain overcame him.

"Didn't what, Sammy?"

"L've me."

"Leave you?" Dean repeated, looking at his brother in mostly shock and confusion. "Did you hit you're head when you fell, Sam?" he added as he pushed his brother's hair back to see if there were any wounds there. He didn't see any but that didn't help with figuring out what the hell Sam was on about. "Why would I leave you?"

Sam was about to answer when the pain became too much. His hazel eyes rolled back in to his head as he passed out cold.

"Hey, Sam! No. Stay with me. Don't you dare pass out on me. Hey, can you hear me?" Dean said as he tapped his brother's face gently but it was pointless. "Why is it always Sammy? Can't you give him a break? Just this goddamn once!" he yelled in to the thin air. Dean picked Sam up bridal style and grunted at the weight of his younger sibling. "Over grown sasquatch." he grumbled as he started to carry Sam towards the Impala.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam peeled his eyes open and frowned. He was in a hospital. What the hell? He tried to think of the reason but his thoughts were all jumbled and they didn't make any sense. Whenever he tried to focus on something, the thought would escape him and he'd be back where he started. For some reason, the fact that he was confused made him laugh.

Sam heard some movement beside him, so he turned his head slightly and spotted Dean.

"What's so funny? You feelin' okay?"

"S-Supercalifragilistic-ex-expial-iali-docious."

"Oh, great. Jeez, how much did they give you?"

"You're crazy. They didn't give me anythin'. I feel awesome. How much did they give _you_?"

"What?" he said, looking at his baby brother confused. "They didn't give me anything'."

Sam laughed at his brother's reaction, not sure why he was finding it funny at all.

"Look, man. You're gonna have to pull yourself together, alright? 'Cause we've gotta break out of here in the next five minutes. Bobby's waitin' outside."

"Break out of where? Bobby's here too? What a coinkydink."

"The hospital…I swear to God, Sam."

Sam placed his finger roughly on Dean's lips and said "Shh. You can't swear in a hospital, Dean."

"Get off me." He replied, swatting his younger brother's hand away. "Why the hell not? Come on, bitch."

"No you're a bitch or a jerk…wait, no, idjit? Which one is it?"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"No, I meant the answer was jerk. You're not supposed to…ugh, just forget it, Sam."

"Where am I anyway? Wha-" he said, his voice trailing off as he tried to sit up but the feeling in his leg distracted him. "My leg…feels funny."

"I told you already, the Hospital. Yeah, that'll be the morphine. You broke it, dude. As well as a couple o' ribs. Here, put these on." Dean said, handing his brother his clothes and turning his back to give his brother some privacy.

A few minutes later he turned back around to find Sam dressed apart from the fact that he'd put his shirt on back to front. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head then helped Sam in to a sitting position but Sam just flopped forward, resting his head on Dean's chest.

"Mmm…your shirt smells nice."

"That's good to know, Sam, really it is. Now would you get off me and stand up?" he said as he looked for some crutches.

Sam did what his brother asked and climbed off the bed, only to slip backwards. He giggled and didn't make any attempt to get back up again.

"You can't stand up without the crutches, you dumbass. Here." He said as he passed them over to Sam.

Sam used them to stand up again and gave his brother a goofy smile.

"Finally, now come _on_." He said, leading his brother outside.

When they reached the Impala, he indicated to Bobby that Sam was still completely out of it and then helped Sam sit down in the backseat.

"Hey, you don't mind drivin' d'you? I don't want chuckles over here, droolin' all over the seats."

"That's fine but I think it's a little late for that." Bobby replied with a smirk as he climbed in to the driver's seat.

"Dammit, Sam!" he growled, noticing that Sam was now lying sprawled on the seats asleep and drooling.


End file.
